Page 12 of Wings of Strife
Fuck, I wish I could connect with my friends right now. They’d lift my spirits and tell me I’m a badass, but I’ve been too scared to try again since what happened in Castiel’s office. I close my eyes, picturing Dina, Raphael, Theo, and even Zeke. All of them believe in me. And I think—no, Iknow—they see more in me than anyone else does.
Including myself.
When the gun blasts, I bolt. After two tries at this thing already, I feel more confident. Or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself over and over again until I believe it.
Even if I don’t fully make it through that last obstacle, it’s not the end of the world, right? Progress is progress. That’s what I should focus on.
This time I look at the clock when I cross the finish line. Out of the four angels I raced with, at least I didn’t come last this time.
The professor calls for one more group, and I walk off to the side to watch on. To my left, a mixed group of Pure and Fallen angels talk in hushed tones. I have no doubts about what they’re discussing, and even though I can’t hear their words, I step further to my right until I’m blissfully alone.
Except, I’m not.
“Protector, my ass,” someone says, though I can’t see him. “That angel can’t even protect herself from getting crushed in a fake obstacle course.”
If someone replies, I don’t hear it. Part of me wants to turn around and figure out just where these fuckers are, but I don’t. Somehow, it’s worse if they know I’m standing right here, listening to every word they say.
The guy scoffs indigently. “We’re treated like shit for our black wings, and yet somehow, that train wreck gets special treatment. She’s just as fucking Fallen as the rest of us.”
“No, she’s beneath us. That bitch walks around here like she’s royalty, but after today, the only monarch I see is Queen Shit of Turd Island,” an unfamiliar female voice says, and I swallow past the knot in my throat.
If the Pure hate me and now the Fallen do too, I’m not sure I can take it. Fallen House has been my refuge. It’s my safe space where I know I’ll escape from the angels like Seraphina, Cadriel, and even Professor Uriel. How many more Fallen feel this way? Is it everyone?
My breaths turn shallow as I struggle to take in enough oxygen. All my life, I’ve felt like an outsider, but at least then I had my parents, Dina, and our Fallen friends. They always justunderstood.
I’ve never felt more estranged in my entire life.
Maybe I don’t belong anywhere.
I’m too lost in thought when Professor Uriel starts speaking. He says something about the obstacle course being part of our final exams in a few weeks.
If everyone hates me, will I even make it that long?
The changing room is loud with whispers and comments from the angels around me, but it’s like I’m on autopilot. I just need to change and get out. It’s too crowded. Too warm. It feels like I’m slowly suffocating in here.
And as I leave the changing rooms, and head away from the arena, I can’t shake the eerie sense that something is very,verywrong.
6
The cafeteria swarms with students. It’s too damn crowded today. Or maybe it’s only me who thinks so.
Since Wingology class, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of total worthlessness. Raphael and Theo sit on either side of me, with Dina directly across from us. Their presence helps quiet the unwanted thoughts, but it doesn’t get rid of them entirely.
I’m lost in my head, trapped there by nothing more than my own fear and ineptitude.
A figure approaches our table, spiking my adrenaline as I worry what the next insult will be from him. He might be a Fallen, but he’s also someone I feel I can count on, at least a little.
Zeke pulls out a chair, ignoring the obvious look of shock from a few of the other Fallen in the cafeteria. He never sits with us. He never really sits with anyone. So what’s he doing here now?
“Are you sure you want to do that? Seems to be causing a bit of a stir,” Raphael says, his cautious gaze roaming the cafeteria.
Zeke sighs. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He makes a good point. If there’s one thing we all know about Ezekiel Oren, it’s that he doesn’t do a damn thing unless he wants to.
Our eyes lock, and I try to decipher the emotions I find swirling inside their green depths. Worry, maybe, and a hint of something that looks a hell of a lot like longing. That last one could just be annoyance, though. It’s too hard to tell with him and the many masks he hides behind.
“Well, I’m glad you’re joining us.” And I am. We haven’t really hashed out our shit, yet the fact that he’s here—especially on today, of all days—goes a long way in mending old wounds. I may never learn why he turned me away so cruelly all those months ago, but maybe we can find some solid ground for our friendship to grow on.
